Practice Equals Fire
by Dragon Silhouette
Summary: Someone burned down the Seireitei - and most importantly, the paperwork. [Very slight yaoi in the end.]


**Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine.**

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**Practice Equals Fire**

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The Captains and Lieutenants glared at their equals while the Seireitei burned into spiritual ashes in the background.

Approximately three hours ago, a suspicious fire sparked smack in the middle of the Seireitei. A passing unseated officer headed to a bar had noticed the swiftly spreading flames and sounded the alarm. Being extremely efficient in times of fires (it happened very often – what with Yamamoto's Zanpakutou and beginner Kidou practitioners . . .), everyone had been evacuated within the hour while the water and ice users tried their best to douse the fires. The rest of the Shinigami worked together to fetch water from the lakes of Rukongai.

However, what made this fire so unusual was because _there was so much of it._

It was only through the combined efforts of the Captains and Lieutenants that it had stayed contained in the Seireitei.

Now, after an impressive show of teamwork, the highest ranking Shinigami of the Gotei 13 were conspicuously sending death threats to each other.

"Speak," Yamamoto commanded. "Or the culprit shall be jailed for an extra century!" While he very much adored fire in all its form, he had just finished a lofty stack of paperwork – which was now in the form of unreadable cinders, and he did _not_ appreciate his own element messing with his paperwork. He was _this_ close to taking out his anger on his subordinates (who happened to be right in front of him right now). They should be able to survive his tantrum – ehm, _anger release_. They were Captains, after all.

"How do we know it isn't you, old man?" Zaraki grumbled. He shut up when said old man shot him a warning look. Hey, even _he_ wasn't that stupid. Yachiru hummed a tune about rabbits on fire from his shoulder.

"Now, now," Kyouraku intervened, "let's settle this calmly and preferably without any bloodshed – or more fires." Only slightest tightening of his brow revealed his irritation at the situation.

"Without bloodshed?" Kurotsuchi screeched. "I was in the middle of a dissection, you incompetent fool! My work, my samples, _my victim_ is now gone!" He pointed a bony finger at Komamura. "It was you, wasn't it? You and that big Bankai of yours – "

"Did you see a giant samurai materializing in the Seventh Division?" Hitsugaya queried. "I think we all would have noticed the noise and the spiritual pressure if he did."

"You're defending him, Hitsugaya? Could it possibly be you who started the fire?"

"What?!" He couldn't believe how this guy's logic worked. "Why the hell would I do something like this?" He was an ice-wielder, dammit! This was about the last thing he wanted on a Friday night. Matsumoto twitched on the ground beside him. She – along with Hisagi and Kira, who were snoring away their hangovers beside Unohana and Nanao – was dead drunk to the world, even in a fire.

Ukitake coughed. "As Shunsui said, we should settle this in a calm, non-violent matter – "

"And that is why the culprit shall now step forward unless all of you want to be burned to crisps," Yamamoto threatened.

The Captains and Lieutenants stilled.

"Doesn't non-violent mean without fire?" Omaeda muttered, munching on food.

"Just . . . one of you step forward," Soifon grumbled tiredly. She (along with many of the other Captains) had been about to sleep after a long day of paperwork – and was very pissed at whoever set this fire. As much as she wanted to rip him (or her, but she doubted that) apart to pieces, all she wanted to do right now was to go back to her bed and dream about black cats. "You won't get thrown into the Maggot's Nest – I swear." Gosh, she must be more tired that she thought. Maybe she should just blame the fire on her Lieutenant . . . She would be rid of the useless lump and everyone could go back to sleep . . .

Renji nervously looked at his Captain, who was looking back with narrowed eyes. He knew what he was expected to do. The punishment would be much worse than the Maggot's Nest (and maybe Yamamoto's Bankai) if he didn't . . .

"It was me," he mumbled, stepping forward.

Yamamoto glared at him. Renji flinched. "Kuchiki. Put him under probation for three years. The rest of you – get out of my sight." He stomped away in all his two-thousand-year-old glory.

The Captains and (conscious) Lieutenants left the fiery old man with a sigh and several dark looks at Renji.

"There," the redhead muttered. "Now . . . ?"

"Not yet," Byakuya said emotionlessly and walked away.

Renji's shoulders slumped. It wasn't fair. Why did _he_ have to be the one to take the blame? He wasn't even the one who started the fire! Hell, he wasn't even the one practicing Kidou! Stupid Byakuya, making him a scapegoat. It wasn't like Yamamoto could put Captains on probation for long, so why did he have to be the one with _another_ spot on his record?

Oh, right.

Byakuya could last longer than him without sex.

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**Random O.O Sorry, a few weeks ago, I needed something weird to get rid of boredom. I wrote this in under ten minutes, and it has been gathering dust in my computer ever since. I decided to take a chance and post this up.**

**I never thought I'd write ByaRen, even though it's very slight.**


End file.
